Page 27 of The Fault Between Us
The bus driver honked a warning.
Red got out of the truck and grabbed his pack from the back. Claire followed with Jenny, holding her close.
“Take good care of her.” Red kissed the top of Jenny’s head, his expression determined. It felt to Claire that he was already miles away. Red bent to kiss her goodbye but just like last night, she turned away. She couldn’t accept his kiss when everything inside her was crumbling.
“Go,” she said, dredging up words from a place that was raw and painful. “We don’t need you.” Even as the words left her lips she knewthey were cruel and untrue. She saw the flash of pain on his face and wanted to take the words back, but something—a deep hurt she couldn’t name—wouldn’t let her.
The bus blared a final warning.
Claire didn’t watch Red walk away. She held Jenny close and squeezed her eyes shut. If Red looked back before he stepped on the bus she didn’t see it.
chapter 16:FRANNIE
Frannie stuck out her thumb.
A truck with a towering load of hay bales came toward her. The brakes screeched as it passed by and she watched it slow down and stop twenty feet ahead.
Boy howdy, a ride on her first try.
She’d woken up to find Claire and Red gone and a note on the kitchen table that readBack soon, help yourself to breakfast.“Don’t mind if I do,” she said to the empty house. She ate the last of the Jell-O salad, threw on her wrinkled capri pants and a blouse, packed her suitcase, and walked out the door.
It didn’t take a psychoanalyst to see that things were wonky between Claire and Red, and she knew why. They’d gone down to the river last night after dinner, and when Claire came back her eyes were all weepy.
They’d been fighting about her, obviously.
Red didn’t want her around. She could take a hint. She ran to the passenger door of the hay truck and pulled it open.
“Where you headin’?” an old cowboy with a lip of chew and a stained straw hat asked as she scrambled up the running board and into the passenger seat.
“Canyon Lodge,” she said, shoving her suitcase under her feet.
“I can get you as far as Madison Junction.” He put the truck in gear and spit gravel behind them.
She’d heard about the job at Canyon Lodge on the train while Bridget was reading her dumb old book. “Canyon is looking for help,” a kid who looked like Pat Boone had told her. He was sitting in the last car with a gang of outdoorsy-looking teenagers. They passed her a flask and she’d started cooking up a plan to get back at Dad and Bridget.
The ranger at the West Entrance waved the hay truck through, and she watched the flash of the river along the road. By now, Claire would know she was gone, and she’d call Bridget right away. Then Bridget would call Dad. Holy smokes, what she’d give to be a fly on the wall when Dad got wind of what she’d done.
She laughed out loud and the old guy gave her a funny look.
Her next ride was with a businessman type who asked a lot of questions and tried to put his hand on her knee. Then she crammed in with a family of six in a loaded station wagon. “This is the place,” the dorky dad said as he came to a stop. “Canyon Lodge.”
She grabbed her suitcase, and watched the station wagon disappear in a cloud of dust. The place looked like something out ofGunsmokeorThe Rifleman. Tall pines surrounded the rustic building and a sign over the door saidCabins. A sudden rush of doubt made her swallow hard. What if the redheaded kid was wrong and she didn’t get a job? She’d die before she went back to Claire’s with her hands in her pockets.
Frannie hefted her suitcase and squared her shoulders. “Here goes nothing.”
Ten minutes later, Frannie sat in a hot-as-a-frying-pan office with a middle-aged beatnik named Twig. He asked her name, address, and age, and wrote them on a yellow card. She didn’t give him her realaddress—she wasn’t stupid—in case he decided to call and talk to her dad. “We don’t usually hire in the middle of the summer,” Twig said, “but Sherry got sent home with an appendicitis.” Twig plodded to the door and called out, “Jerrylynn!” A girl a couple years older than Frannie bounced into the office in a skirt and sneakers, a blonde ponytail, and cat-eye glasses with little rhinestones on the corners. “Tell Frannie about working at the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River Lodge.”
Jerrylynn gave a theatrical bow and put her hands together as if reciting a poem. “The hours are long, the pay stinks, the beds are hard and the mosquitoes are mean, but it’s the best darn job you’ve ever seen.”
Twig raised his bushy brows at her. “Still interested?”
Frannie’s earlier attack of doubt went the way of the dodo. This was so much cooler than taking care of a baby in the middle of nowhere. “Abso-poso-lutely.”
“Then you’re officially a savage.” Twig nodded to Jerrylynn. “Take her around, show her the bunkhouse and then start your shift.”
Frannie followed the bobbing ponytail out of the office. Man-oh-man, this was neat. She was a grown-up now, with no party-pooper sisters or her dad to tell her what to do. Maybe she’d be escorting guests to their rooms, or working as a waitress or even telling tourists about the sights on one of the buses. Wouldn’t Jonny and her friends back in Willmar be green when she told them about her job in Yellowstone National Park?
They walked by the front desk where three boys were goofing off. Two had crew cuts and looked college age, the other had a side part and glasses. “This is Frannie.” Jerrylynn didn’t slow down as she flicked a hand at the boys. “This is Ernie, Sam, and that kid there is Paul.” Frannie gave what she hoped was an uninterested wave.
